Scars
by hobbits on the island
Summary: Jack's got a scar on his back. Sawyer's got a scar on his shoulder. And they both have far deeper scars, both for the same reason. Oneshot, post island, Sawyer's POV


**Title: **Scars

**By: **hobbits on the island

**Summary: **After being rescued, Jack and Sawyer have to face their scars. (Sawyer's POV) Oneshot.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own LOST and if I did, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfics! I'd be writing the script! (Suggestion for JJ Abrams; add more hobbits!)

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic on this website, so erm… bear with me; I did this on a dreary day after thinking about funerals. So it's obviously not for people fond of fluffy dreams and happy endings. Mucho angsto. Oh, and seeing Sawyer absolutely loathes Jack, we will refer to him as "the Doctor". M'kay?

"_Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even if the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever."_ – Albus Dumbledore

He watched the whole thing through his car window. He didn't get out; he couldn't risk anyone recognizing him. But he couldn't miss it either, that would be like he didn't care.

He waited until it was over, and there were only a few cars left. Then he got out. He quietly walked over to the site. He wasn't surprised to see a tall, broad-shouldered man standing alone beside the grave, rolling a white lily between his thumb and forefinger. He was wearing a dark suit, just like the suit he was wearing when it all started on the plane.

A funeral suit.

"Fancy meeting you here, Doc," he murmured as he came up beside him.

The Doctor didn't even look up. He just kept rolling the lily, back and forth. There was silence for a while, then;

"How'd you get away?"

"I'd rather not talk bout that," he answered.

He sighed and brushed his sandy hair out of his face.

Hair that she felt, he thought.

He leaned over and peered into the grave. You could barely see the coffin over all the flowers, pictures, letters, and chocolate bars. He allowed himself a grin. That had to be Hurley.

More silence.

The Doctor glanced up from his flower.

"Why…Why d'you think she stopped? Why'd she give in?"

He looked from the grave to the Doctor and shrugged.

"Tired of running, I guess."

The whole world, all of its sounds and movements, seemed muffled as they both stood lost in thought.

As this was happening, a couple was sitting in a car in the parking lot, intently watching the scene.

"Told you he'd come," Claire muttered, "He wouldn't miss her funeral."

Charlie nodded absent-mindedly, leaning on the steering wheel.

"Who d'you think misses her more?" he asked.

"Honestly, Charlie?" she sighed. "I have no idea."

It wasn't supposed to end like this. He didn't even get to say goodbye.

He knew he'd had his chance, and he had full intention to. The plan was to simply say good-bye, perhaps promise to keep in touch, and hit the road before the cops could get him. He supposed she'd had a similar plan. But she didn't.

He could tell when the ship arrived that she didn't look right, so strained and pensive. And then she went and talked to the Doctor as he watched them from a distance. With every sentence she said the Doctor's face became more grave and concerned. And with each sentence he said, she just shook her head and blinked back more tears. Now the Doctor began to look strained and pensive.

As she went off he caught up with her, he asked her what was wrong. She stood there, with tears still sliding down her cheeks, then she threw herself into his arms and sobbed.

"Sawyer, I'm not…ready…I can't…" She could hardly string two words together.

She finally calmed down, and he asked her again. Then she just shook her head and ran.

Running. She was good at that. Why did she always run? If she always ran, why'd she suddenly stop? That secret, quite literally, went with her to the grave.

He decided to wait until they landed to ask her, before saying good-bye. Big mistake.

_After landing_

He saw her through the crowd. He had to get to her, he needed to know. He couldn't leave without saying good-bye.

But the Doctor got to her first.

He watched the Doctor grab her arm and look her in the eye. He couldn't hear what they were talking about over the din of shouts and noise, but he only needed to see. The Doctor was begging her, it seemed, but she only shook her head. And then they seemed to be saying good-bye. And then they seemed extremely close. And then they seemed to be in each other's arms, staring into each other's eyes. And then…

And then Sawyer realized that their friendship was more than a friendship. It was more than a couple flirts, jokes about moving in together, and some "you checkin' me out" s. He also realized that she was going somewhere for a long time, and that the Doctor would miss her. And from what he could gather, she'd miss him too.

So he slipped off through the crowd, hoping to catch a taxi. His shoulder suddenly went stiff with pain, the kind that seeps through your whole body like poison. His vulnerable, scarred shoulder. The one that proclaimed to the world that he had been shot. The one that always reminded him afterwards that, though he acted tough, he could still be hurt.

He couldn't say good-bye, not after what he saw her do. Maybe, if he could just let go now, he could always remember her the way she used to be, carefree, laughing, beautiful. He didn't want an explanation or a good-bye.

But she did. He could hear his name being called, someone running after him. An old part of him flared up, and he roared for a taxi. He didn't have any money, but hey, he was a conman. That's what he did.

As the taxi pulled away, he looked behind him, and there she was. Standing by the side of the road, oblivious to the renegade strands of hair falling from their place, wearing the expression of hurt mixed with pity she always did when he disappointed her. His scar twinged.

"Driver…"

"Yeah?"

He looked back. She wasn't there anymore. In her place were three police cars.

"Never mind. Keep driving."

He'd heard about three days later that she had turned herself in, and the cop car she was being escorted in crashed into a truck, which coincidentally was the one Hurley had cursed for passing him on a red light. She was killed instantly.

And so that was the last time he'd seen her, until today. He'd never forgiven himself for running.

The two men were brought to their senses by a sudden shower of rain. Rain always reminded Sawyer of her. The freakish rain on the island always left them shocked for a moment, then she laugh, they'd both laugh, then suddenly the sun was back.

Sawyer realized he was still standing beside the Doctor. He asked the question, though he knew the answer.

"You knew, didn't you? You knew she was gonna turn herself in."

The Doctor nodded.

"I begged her not to do it. I … I wanted to protect her, I guess, so I begged her."

"I know. I saw it."

The Doctor looked genuinely shocked, maybe even a little embarrassed.

"Aw, c'mon, you can't really expect to do that in front a crowd and no one will notice. I'm surprised no one got it on tape."

The Doctor was silent, registering this new information through his mind. He quietly asked,

"Is that why you didn't say good-bye? She missed you, you know. She was really disappointed when you left."

He answered simply by nodding.

The Doctor sighed.

"I guess… I guess I should be getting back."

Back. Back to normal life. Without her. But he knew the Doctor too well to think he'd ever go back. He'd always come back to this place.

The Doctor rubbed the left side of his back instinctively, probably thinking the same thing. He inhaled deeply, face upward, letting the raindrops kiss his face and mix with his tears. Then he knelt beside the grave, and softly kissed the lily. He watched it float to the bottom of the grave before slowly walking away.

As much as Sawyer hated him, they really were the same. The same pain was gnawing away at their insides.

Now he was all alone. With her.

Deep breath.

"Hey Freckles, it's been a while." Light conversation. He was making light conversation with a grave. How pointless.

_It's not pointless! _His shoulder screamed at him.

"I've missed you." His shoulder began to prickle.

"I've missed you so much."

Suddenly she was standing there, oblivious to the renegade strands of hair falling from their place, wearing the expression of hurt mixed with pity that she always did when he disappointed her. His shoulder exploded with pain. He knelt by the grave. He closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he whispered hoarsely.

He wanted so badly to simply pluck her out of that hole and take her away, to a better place, like in a fairy tale. Like she was just sleeping, under a magic spell.

_Please, _he thought, _please let it just be a dream, some horrible dream. Please tell me I'm on the beach, still next to the chubby millionaire, and she's waiting for me to wake up just to fling a banana in my face. Please, just let it all be a dream. I don't care if I have to live on the Kraphole Island. Just a dream, just a dream…_

A sympathetic voice whispered in his ear. Her voice.

_Jack asked for the same thing._

His shoulder continued to throb.

_Good-bye._

Sawyer opened his eyes. She was still lying there, covered in water and flowers, the white lily still perched mournfully on a Kit-Kat bar. Nothing had changed. His cheek tingled, as if she had kissed it. His shoulder still tingled. His hair was wet. Reality hit like a ton of bricks. His world swam out of focus.

All the best cowboys gotta have a good cry, right?

_**Finis**_

(dusts the extremely unused review button)

Well, even if you didn't review, thanx for reading, God-bless, ta-ta-for-now, and toodles!


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